Martagon Lily
by TungstenCat
Summary: EMIYA stared in horror at the young girl seated across from him. The uncertainty in her gaze, the nervous tapping of her fingers, did nothing to stop him from seeing the shadow of the horns her adult self wore so proudly. What on Earth had he done this time for Alaya to curse him like this?


EMIYA hummed as he placed the last dish on the drying rack. As Chaldea's most beloved cook, a snap of his fingers would have ensured that he would never need to scrub another pot in his life. A legion of aspiring sous-chefs were only too keen to do it for him, so he could return to his art as soon as possible. But EMIYA had waved them away, insisting that unless a cook was forced to wash his own tools, he had little incentive not to casually make use of every piece of dishware in the kitchen.

He also simply enjoyed it. There was a certain satisfaction in watching the grime steadily disappear under his hands, vanishing into hot water and suds. The kitchen had always been the most comfortable room of a house for him, even after he had traded his apron for swords. There was a welcoming comfort in the familiar domestic task, like holding the hand of an old friend. He should probably get to work on a fresh batch of onigiri - his animal-themed ones were always a big hit with the kids - but for now, he just wanted to bask in the moment.

Which _of course_ meant the cafeteria door barged open right then. EMIYA spotted a familiar green cloak and shock of ginger hair.

"Just stay in here until we get this sorted out, miss," said Robin Hood, ushering a young girl inside. She looked terribly young in a flowing white dress that billowed around her knees as she hesitantly walked in. Black hair came down in long shiny strands to just above her shoulders.

"The missy be needin' an escort -" came a raucous voice from over the green archer's shoulder.

"Try it and you'll be needing that hook for real, Teach!" Robin glared back out into the hall. "Bedivere, please keep _her _out of here until Master sorts this mess out. I'm going to go find Dantès."

Then he turned to the girl and added in a much gentler tone. "Just ask the guy in red over there if you need anything." He pointed towards EMIYA, who was still elbow-deep in soapy water. "He might not look it, but he's pretty reliable."

"I believe that's my line, thief of Sherwood," said EMIYA, wiping his hands on a nearby cloth. "So. What crisis has struck this time?"

"I'll explain later. Just keep an eye on her for now, will you? You're good with kids."

EMIYA opened his mouth to protest, but Robin was already out the door.

He sighed and turned to face his newest charge. She looked to be in her early teenage years, her body just beginning to fill out under the linen of her dress. Her limbs looked rather frail, her skin a touch too pale, but the aura around her clearly identified her as a Servant.

Then she raised her head to look at him warily from behind long eyelashes, soft brown meeting steel gray. He recognized her, and it was all he could do not to recoil and summon his swords. The high cheekbones were rounded by youth, the soft lips set in a question rather than a beatific smile, but it was all too familiar. If he blinked, then surely the black and magenta horns would appear to frame her head.

A chill raced down his spine, all the way down to rattle his tailbone. He found himself taking a few steps backwards on instinct. _No. This has to be some sort of trick. Why am I looking at the schoolgirl version of Kiara Sessyoin_? She turned her head away, her hands clutched in her lap. _That bastard Gilgamesh, him and his stupid youth potions. This just has to be his fault._

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "I'm in your way, aren't I?" Her clear sweet voice trembled rather than rang silver in his ears. She meekly gestured towards a table in the corner. "Is it okay if I sit over there?"

He caught himself after a moment, then affected a shrug. "Go ahead."

She padded obediently over and took her seat. He returned to the sink, reaching in to drain the water. Then he busied himself with drying and putting away all the plates and cutlery. Despite his determined attempt at normalcy, he couldn't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder every few minutes. Each time he dreaded seeing a knowing gaze, a mocking smile, directed at him. Each time he encountered only the side of her face as she quietly sat, her eyes lost somewhere in the distance.

The tension in the air was becoming unbearable, even for a veteran warrior for himself. That was the only reason he found himself turning around to face her directly. "What do you want to eat?"

She blinked at him. "Eat? But I'm a Servant. I thought we didn't need to."

"We don't," he agreed. "But a lot of Servants enjoy it anyway. It reminds them of home." He shrugged.

"Home…" she murmured. "I don't really remember what we used to eat." Then she grinned, her eyes lightening as she forgot to be afraid of him. "Sister Kiyome used to try smuggling in things for me at first, but the hospital staff made her stop. The wrong food could disrupt my medications, you know? So she used to bring me different blankets instead, so I could feel—"

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as she took in his frown. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mention that. It's all in the past anyway." She made herself smile for him. Without the polish of her older self, the brittleness was all too visible.

"That's right," he agreed, ignoring the uncomfortable weight in his stomach. "And now that there's nothing to stop you, you should definitely ask for something tasty."

"Then… " She swallowed hard. "Do you know how to make okonomiyaki? Brother Daisuke took me out for a walk once, when I could still use a wheelchair. There was a booth nearby, and nobody told him I wasn't supposed to have any."

"Including yourself," said EMIYA with an arch of his eyebrow.

She flushed red. "I know. It was wrong of me, especially when I was supposed to be clearing my desires." She crossed her arms defiantly and pouted. "But it smelled really good! And they had all these photos with cute little designs and -"

She stopped and looked away again. "I'm sorry. I was being selfish then, and I'm being selfish now." She groaned in embarrassment, letting her head hit the table. "You're being so nice, and I haven't even asked what I should be doing for you."

"You can sit there and wait while I make your pancakes," he said as he reached over to turn on the grill.

"But -"

"But nothing. Just sit there and relax. I don't know what's going on, but it's nothing that you can't face better on a full stomach."

He could feel her pout intensify in the silence and resisted the urge to laugh. Then he remembered who she was, and all traces of humour froze in his veins. Still he collected his implements, mixing bowls and cutting boards and so on.

He got to work on the batter, whisking the flour and eggs with practiced skill. He could sense her eyes on him, watching in fascination. He heard a sigh as he chopped the cabbage and tempura scraps, and he glanced back to see that fascination had turned to longing. For a brief moment, he saw a flash of violet in her hair and was dragged back to a very different kitchen, a very long time ago. Then he blinked and the image was gone, but not the clenching in his heart.

He sighed and surrendered to the inevitable. "Do you want to help?"

Her eyes lit up, but she chewed her bottom lip doubtfully. "Are you sure? I've never really cooked before. I'd only get in the way."

"It's fine. Just come here."

She hesitantly approached, crossing the threshold into the kitchen with all the care of a priestess entering holy ground.

He grunted as he handed her an apron. "Wear this."

She nodded and took it, looking at the various straps in some apprehension. But she was a bright girl, and soon enough she was washed up, dressed for the part and eager to assist. Grating the mountain yam was a tricky task, so instead he set her to chopping up toppings - green onions, seaweed flakes and pork belly.

She was even clumsier than he had expected. Several times he had to correct her on how she handled the knife, lest the dish be topped with fingers instead. Even with his guidance, the vegetables ended up unevenly chopped and ragged, the pork in awkward squares. He waved off her stammered apologies and added them to the pan anyway. If the cuts made his inner chef wince, then the earnest effort made him smile fondly. His first attempts at surprising his old man with homemade stirfry had turned out even worse.

Soon they were both watching the grill as the batter sizzled and took form, one with a practiced eye and the other with undisguised eagerness. The familiar scent of fried cabbage and dough was a comfort to EMIYA, who still wasn't sure how he had landed himself into the absurd situation of cooking for Heaven's Hole, albeit a very different version of her.

Once the first pancake looked done, he deftly plated it with the metal spatula and neatly cut it into pieces. He then smoothly placed it on the counter.

"Eat that one while it's still hot. I'll handle the rest."

Kiara didn't argue, instead enthusiastically grabbing for the toppings and sauce. She giggled as she trailed the dark liquid over the crisp fried surface. It was bothersome, but he couldn't help but look over and see her handiwork.

"... a dog?" he ventured.

"How rude! It's a cat."

"Those are its ears, right? Why are they flopped over like that?"

"It's a Scottish fold cat," she smiled. "I saw it in a magazine once that Brother Daisuke brought me. Isn't it cute? But they get sick a lot, too. I thought that maybe, once I reached enlightenment, maybe I could help them so they wouldn't get sick anymore."

Her brow creased. "Enlightenment," she whispered, and clutched briefly at her arm. Her eyes fluttered closed and she drew a deep breath. When she opened them again, her movements were slower, more deliberate. She carefully set the plate down and straightened her shoulders as she turned to face him. Then she bowed, as formally as any temple monk.

"My apologies, I should have introduced myself. Please allow me to repair this oversight. I am a Caster, Kiara Sessyoin."

He grunted. "Shirou Emiya, of the Archer class." He watched carefully for any sign of recognition, but saw none. Unless she was simply an excellent actor, showing the nascent subterfuge that would someday enable Heaven's Hole to wrap entire clans around her smallest finger.

She nodded seriously at him. "My thanks for your offering. What do you seek from me, that I may bestow it on you?"

He blinked, then shook his head. "Nothing. I don't need anything from you."

Now it was Kiara's turn to blink, her shoulders unconsciously dropping out of their formal posture. "I don't understand," she said with a frown. "I am the tool of the Tachikawa School. The vessel of the divine. You can request anything, you know."

She looked away then, shivering despite the lingering warmth in the kitchen. He pushed away the ice that threatened to spread over him as the implications of that shiver set in. Not here, not now. Perhaps later, when she didn't have a feeling of _obligation _hanging over her and threatening to poison everything. Perhaps never, if she only wanted to bury it. But right now, that wasn't what she needed from him. So instead he offered her his broadest smile.

"Oh? Then I need you to clear the plate. The rest of the okonomiyaki aren't going to eat themselves, you know?"

She gave a strangled sound in her throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, before tentatively grabbing the first piece in her chopsticks. She raised it to her lips, hesitated. Then she took a bite, and her face filled with wonder.

"This is really good," she said, then hurriedly stuffed the next piece in her mouth. She chewed with gusto, none of her earlier elegance in sight. "I had no idea food could taste like this. Everything at the hospital was always bland. It was better for my stomach. But this is…"

He shook his head, which she took as permission to dig in without interruption. He waited patiently as she cleared the plate, pleased as always by the sight of someone enjoying his food. No matter how many times he saw it, how many different people sampled what he created, it never failed to fill him with quiet satisfaction. The knowledge that he could make people happy, make everyone at the table smile without the need for calculations and sacrifices and screams.

She set her chopsticks down with a faint scratching of wood on granite. "Thank you, Emiya-san. I'm very grateful."

He waved a dismissive hand, but she clearly wasn't done, for she nervously cleared her throat.

"I overheard them, when they were bringing me here." Kiara ran a hand carelessly through her hair. "There's an other me here, right? An older me. After I learned how to save everyone."

EMIYA stiffened. _Save everyone_, he repeated in his mind, and felt like crying.

She looked up at him helplessly. "I guess they think I'll make her angry? Because she must be beautiful, if she can bring salvation to everyone like Father wanted. And I'm small and selfish and petty, because I should be thinking about helping Master. About saving the world, and all living beings. And instead I'm thinking about what I want to draw on my next pancake."

She shuffled her feet awkwardly against the wood of the counter, under the marble top. "Was it a mistake to answer the summons? Master wants to save humanity, and I do too. So I came. But if I'm going to make things worse… I don't know. Should I disappear?"

EMIYA's hands twitched with the sudden urge to sweep her up in his arms and comfort her. But the vision of the horns, indelibly dyed overtop the young girl facing him, held him back. He took a deep breath to dispel the image, then leaned down a little closer. He was absurdly touched when she didn't shrink back, only looked up at him questioningly.

"What do you want, Kiara? Not what you think you should be doing. What you feel like doing."

_I'd say I wish someone had asked me that, years ago, but I already know how that idiot would have answered_. He shook his head. _I don't even know what I want her to say. Just that if I can reach her, maybe… would things have been different? Or am I as stupid as ever, after all?_

She wrenched her hands together, looking at her feet. "I want to stay," she said softly. "I like being able to walk around, without it hurting. And the food you made me was really tasty, and…" She sighed. "I'm sorry, Emiya-san. I'm being selfish again."

This time he pushed his arms through the horns and drew her into a gentle hug. He felt her shudder in his grasp before slight hands were wrapping tentatively around his waist. "Shh. It's okay to be selfish sometimes." He stroked her hair the same way he might have done for one of the curious round kittens she was so fond of, letting her quietly release her emotional burden.

They stayed like that for a bit, accompanied by nothing but the electronic hum of the appliances. Eventually Kiara's shoulders stopped shaking and her breathing levelled out. He held on for a shade longer, then stepped away towards the stove.

He gingerly reached for the batter and placed another dollop on the grill. He kept his eyes firmly on the oil-slicked surface as he spoke. "You can come here whenever you need to, okay? Just don't bring that idiot green archer next time."

His back might have been turned to her, but he could still hear her little gasp of delight. Of hope.

There was a long moment, enough for him to flip the pancake onto a plate and start on the next one. Then the soft sound of footsteps approaching again, and she was at his side again.

"While I'm being selfish… will you teach me how to cook?" She looked at him with shamelessly pleading eyes.

He laughed wryly. "You and half of Chaldea. But why not?"

He placed the spatula in her hand and showed her the wrist motion she would need to flip the okonomiyaki. She tried to imitate him, and he could already tell the pancake would end up flopped over awkwardly in pieces. He smiled anyway.

_The selfish one here is me_, he thought to himself, _because this is only possible while the Grand Order is ongoing, while all of humanity is perched on the brink. Yet I wish these days could last forever_.

* * *

**Several weeks later**

"Shishou! Wait for me!"

EMIYA Alter watched from the far corner as the young girl followed his red counterpart, her arms weighed down with several round watermelons. She would almost certainly have dropped and splattered one if the other EMIYA had not stopped long enough to deftly pluck the top one, adding it to the jumble of items he was already carrying.

"Adorable, isn't it?" said a silvery voice from behind him. "She went as far as to forsake the tenfold path for that man's teachings."

"He's not teaching anything," said the Alter dispassionately. "Just the confusion of a man who thinks he has given up his foolish ideals, only to cling to them more tightly than ever."

Warm breath ghosted along his ear. "Fufu, shall I tell her so? Or shall I tell her another story to guide her on her path? Perhaps one about the man who wished to save everyone, and failed because he never remembered to save himself?"

A slight hitch in the machine, a momentarily jump of one small tiny gear. A soft hand traced along his biceps, lingered along the skin. He only registered it, a calculus of fact rather than sensation. He had long since lost any use for the latter.

"What shall be the moral, I wonder? What path to salvation shall she learn from us?"

A click of a gun trigger in the darkness. "Don't even think about approaching them," he told her.

"I have no need to," she giggled. "Curiosity will bring her to me sooner or later. I can be patient."

They stood in silence for a moment, in the same space but certainly not together. Then she glanced towards him, golden eyes glowing in the artificial lighting. "Do you ever wonder—?"

"No," he said, as precise as the machine. He pulled away, back to the training room from which he had briefly emerged.

"Liar," she laughed, and followed after.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Untold backlog to write, and yet here I am writing more Kiara fic. It is a sickness. Someone please send help.

If you're looking for more EMIYA and Kiara, albeit involving her older self, I cannot recommend Exstarsis' "The Mermaid" fanfic enough. It is a thing of beauty.


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